New Patterns & Old Fr : 05 Needs are Never Simple
by kalinda001
Summary: New Patterns & Old Fr Series. #5. Avon is in bad shape after what Servalan did to him in the last story. She realizes he needs help to recover before she can continue further. Several characters undergo journeys of discovery. The crew have their own paths
1. Chapter 1

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Needs are Never Simple**

Chapter One

"What do you mean that all of the liquor dispensers are broken now?" asked Vila with a voice of alarm.

This was a major disaster.

"Just as I told you Vila," said Cally, "none of the liquor dispensers are currently operational."

"What happened?" Vila asked, his voice had raised a pitch. He was starting to panic. "What did you do?" he accused Argus who had just come onto the flight deck.

"What are you talking about Vila?" asked Argus calmly.

"Why are all the liquor dispensers not working now?"

"You think I had something to do with it?" asked Argus. He realized that Vila's paranoia over the liquor dispensers had a lot to do with him. Argus was the one who had ORAC enact protocol seventeen, which locked all the liquor dispenser codes so that Vila couldn't get access to any liquor before he went down on a mission. Vila, in his desperation at being denied alcohol, had dismantled all of the dispensers, except one, trying to get around the computer codes.

"Well?" Vila challenged.

"I didn't have anything to do with it this time," the rebel leader replied.

"Then who did?"

They all looked at each other, they shrugged and shook their heads.

"You can drink coffee like the rest of us," said Jenna.

"Tea is very calming," Cally offered.

"Tea?" asked Vila incredulously, he clearly thought this was an alien idea.

"You could ask ORAC how to fix the dispensers," added Argus.

Everyone was being _very_ helpful today.

"ORAC?" sputtered Vila, making it sound as if this idea was the worse one so far.

The others fell silent and looked at him. They all seemed to have run out of helpful suggestions. Argus was looking very serious. Jenna and Cally…

"Wait a minute," said Vila. He had a suspicious feeling.

The three conspirators burst out laughing.

"Oh I see, I'm the comic relief now, am I?"

"Actually, all of the liquor dispensers are now working," said Cally, recovering from her fit of laughter.

"Yes, Argus fixed them," said Jenna. "He asked ORAC for instructions and it took him eight tries."

"Five," interjected Argus. "It's not as easy as ORAC made it out to be."

"But he finally got them fixed," continued Jenna.

"Well, alright then," said Vila. "It's time for a celebration."

Fixing the liquor dispensers had been Cally's idea. Playing the trick on Vila, had been Argus'. It was the first time in weeks they had done something together which did not bring any associations with the mine disaster. Since the blow-up at C-812, when their manipulation of the situation had inadvertently resulted in the miners blowing themselves and their mine up, in order to deny the Federation access to a new energy crystal, tempers onboard had been short and what conversation there had been, was brief and only added to the depressing atmosphere. It had gotten so bad that for several days, they had all stopped talking to each other.

But now things were less strained, which was good since the ship would be crossing into a war zone in one week's time. They needed to be ready.

* * *

Sester and Servalan were enjoying a drink in her private office at Residence One and were discussing the latest compromise they had forced from Avon. It had been two weeks since their combined effort had crushed their captive.

"How is he doing?" Servalan asked.

"He's being very compliant and subdued, and he's suffering from deep depression but he's working," said the psychostrategist. "I've had to use the mind trigger on him to force him to respond with his usual sarcasm, but it's very hard for him. I've had to turn down the pain from the knee implant but he still can barely seem to handle it. The interrogators tell me that it is a by-product of the depression."

"Have we finally broken him?"

"No, I don't believe so. He just doesn't know how to fight us anymore. What we did to him, it destroyed his confidence. The way he's acting now, it's as if he's in a state of shock. That's actually why I'm here, he's going to need help if he's to recover from this."

"What do you mean?"

"When you first brought me in, you asked me to build a strategy to break him, but I think we've reached the point where we need to go beyond that. Right now, if we break him any further, without allowing him time to recover, the Avon that you know, will not survive. We need to build him a place where he will want to live; and I don't think he wants to at the moment."

"Has he tried to kill himself?" Servalan asked, the concern was evident in her voice.

"No, but I believe that the only reason he doesn't, is because of the agreements. He's been tortured and abused for three years. There's not been a moment when he's been allowed to relax or have any kind of stability. He has to have daily injections into his back to prevent it from seizing up due to the stress tensions. And now we've taken away any hope that he will ever be free. It's not possible to continually do what we've been doing to him, and still expect him to function; but we're forcing him to anyways. It's only by sheer force of will that he is still able to do what we ask of him."

"You had a big part in what has happened to him. Are you saying it was a mistake?"

"No, that had to be done in order to prevent him from escaping. We had to find out what he did the two days he was gone. Unfortunately for him, his will was too strong, and there was no other way to do it. But now we've achieved it, and he's working. It's time to rethink how he is to be treated."

"You're right," said Servalan. Avon's strength of will had always attracted her. His ability to survive never ceased to amaze her and it had always been a great game trying to get the upper hand with him. She had never considered how much it was really killing him.

"After what has been done to him the past three years, it's going to be difficult to convince him that we want to help him," she remarked.

"And it's going to be even harder because this help is meant to help him accept his prison. Right now, he's completely cut himself off. We need to bring him back to a semblance of himself in order to be able to help him. "

"Very well, send him to me after he's finished with the security system."

"What are you going to do?" Sester asked suspiciously.

"Trust me. Leave him with me for a few days."

"A few days? You really need to tell me what you're going to do."

"You don't like not knowing, do you?"

Sester was annoyed. "A psych-mapping becomes much less effective if you add pieces I am not aware of."

"I will give you a briefing when I'm done with him," she told the strategist without revealing any additional information. Servalan was amused, she enjoyed getting a rise out of Sester. Psychostrategists were much too confident in themselves.

"How is his work on the new security system progressing?" she asked, changing the topic.

"He's being very slow, he doesn't really want to do this, even though he knows he has no choice. I've had some of your security specialists look over his preliminary designs today, they were very interested. They say that several of the measures are revolutionary and can't wait to see the final design when it is finished. They want to incorporate parts of it into some of the other high-level security complexes."

"He's really doing it then."

"It appears so," he told her.

"Do we need to put pressure on him to speed up his progress?"

"Not right now. We've already gained a major victory, I would like to give him time to recover from what we did to him. Servalan, you really need to tell me what you're going to do with him," Sester stressed.

A psychostrategist was only ever defeated by the lack of complete information. Other than the obvious, Sester never knew what happened when Avon was brought to Servalan at Residence One. That was the one factor that always remained a question mark in his psych-mappings.

Servalan smiled and revealed nothing.

* * *

"So when do we cross into the war zone?" asked Vila from his neutron blaster control station. The journey from C-812 had been quiet and uneventful, which was perfect for the crew. They were now all poised for action. Vila had become increasingly nervous as they neared Sector Ten.

"We've been in it for the past half hour Vila," Jenna told him.

Vila was taken aback, he hadn't expected this answer.

"Why didn't anyone _tell_ me?" he asked her.

"There wasn't really anything interesting to tell you," she replied. "What were you expecting?"

"Well, it's a warzone isn't it?" he could afford to sound disappointed now that nothing was happening. "There should be some warships, a couple of explosions, you know, all the usual war zone things."

Of course, the only war zone Vila had personal experience with, was the alien invasion at Star One. He remembered there were lots of warships and explosions then.

"There's a reason I picked this as the entrance point to the Sector," Argus told him. "Rane told us that this isn't an active part of the warzone at the moment so it's the safest place to enter into Athol space."

"Why you didn't tell me? You let me worry…I mean be poised for action…when you knew nothing was going to happen?" Vila asked.

"Actually I did," Argus told him. "During the briefing yesterday."

"Oh that," said Vila, embarrassed. He hadn't paid that much attention during the meeting.

Argus smiled inwardly, he knew that Vila had not been paying attention during the meeting, just as he knew that this was the source of Vila's stress for the past few hours. He had deliberately chosen not relieve the little thief's mind and the others had followed suit. They needed a Vila who was a bit more reliable than he was currently, but Argus knew it would take a long time to get him to that point.

* * *

"That's impressive flying Jenna," said Olean Rane. He was appearing on the main vidscreen on the flight deck of the _Justice_. "You managed to make it all the way here without encountering a single patrol?"

"Having an anti-detector screen helps," she told him.

"I could do with a few of those," Rane said. "Do you think Avon can fit us with some?"

"He's not here," Jenna told him. The tone in her voice was harsh.

Rane looked puzzled. The last time they had talked, Rane had lent twenty of the Athol Elite Guard to the _Justice_ crew in order to rescue Avon from the hands of the Federation.

"It appears you have a lot to tell me," said Rane. "I'm sending you the coordinates. Let's talk when you get here. Rane out."

* * *

An hour later, the crew were gathered in the teleport room. Jenna, Cally and Argus were standing on the teleport pad, ready to go down to the coordinates which Olean Rane had given them. Vila was sitting at the teleport control panel.

"Send us down Vila. We'll report in at the same time tomorrow," Argus told Vila.

Vila's hand poised over the teleport controls. He hesitated.

"What's wrong Vila?" asked Cally.

"You aren't going to have ORAC lock all the liquor dispenser codes again are you?" Vila asked Argus suspiciously.

"I told you that I wouldn't," Argus replied, "and I always keep my word. Now send us down."

"Alright, but if you lock them, I'm not bringing you back up again. Cally and Jenna maybe but you could rot down there."

Argus grinned, "Now Vila."

Vila pressed the control and the three shimmered out of view.

After the three disappeared, Vila went back to the flight deck.

"Zen, I want a course to the Athol moon."

"Course plotted. State speed."

"Speed standard by six."

"Confirmed."

Vila immediately went to the eating area and tried out one of the alcohol dispensers. He breathed a sigh of relief as the welcome green liquid poured into his glass.

He took a drink from the glass.

"Hmm," he said, puzzled. He took another drink.

_Doesn't quite taste the same_, he thought to himself. He went to check all of the other liquor dispensers in turn. Each yielded the same result. He was getting a suspicious feeling again. Vila filled a decanter and went back up to the flight deck to consult ORAC.

Vila turned on the transmitter. "ORAC, command code gamma two delta three six four."

"Yes, what is it?" asked ORAC with an annoyed tone. "Must you always take up my time with frivolous requests?"

"This is not frivolous ORAC, this is very important. Something is wrong with the liquor dispensers. It doesn't taste the same."

"That is because protocol eighteen is now effect."

"PROTOCOL EIGHTEEN!?!?"

"Yes, the alcohol content of the liquid, currently obtainable from the alcohol dispensers, is .1 percent."

"Oh I'm going to KILL him!", said Vila. "I told you that I wouldn't, Vila! I always keep my word, Vila! Now send us down, Vila! Well he doesn't know who he's messing with, right ORAC?"

"It is obvious that he does," the computer told him.

"Oh shut up, ORAC," said Vila irritably. "Well, I keep my word too. If he thinks, I'm going to teleport him back up, he's going to get a big surprise."

"There is a message to be relayed to you as part of protocol eighteen," said ORAC. "Argus says to tell you that Zen has coded orders to make the rendezvous over Athol Prime tomorrow and to remind you that only he and Jenna can fly the ship on manual."

"Of all the two-timing, underhanded, despicable…we'll see about that," said Vila angrily.


	2. Chapter 2

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Needs are Never Simple**

Chapter Two

"You think Avon made a deal to work with the Federation President?" asked Rane.

The three crew members of the _Justice_ and were meeting with Olean Rane in the back room of the inn run by Lelea, a close personal friend of the old soldier.

"I wouldn't put it past him," said Argus. "He has a reputation for only doing things which have a clear benefit for himself."

_Except when he came to rescue me_, thought Cally. She felt a pang of guilt; she had not thought about Avon in many months and she had resolved to find a way to help him. _Where are you now Avon? What are you doing?_

"That's right," Jenna confirmed. "When we brought him onboard, we thought we were rescuing him; but it became very clear that we were only in his way. He commandeered the ship and directed it to a Federation base in Sector Three and he tried to lock all of us in our cabins while we were sleeping; then he shot Argus when we tried to stop him."

"Then you're well rid of him. He does not sound like a safe person to have around."

_And one day, I will personally get rid of him_, thought Argus, _for Tess. _The rebel leader still held Avon responsible for the death of the rebel computer specialist who had been like a younger sister to him.

"You don't even know the half of it," said Jenna, "but we have more important things to discuss than Avon right now. How is the civil war going? Any more devious plots by Ellis since you foiled his plans, and rescued me and Cally?"

_How long will it take, to get them to even consider that something else may have been going on with you Avon?_ Thought Cally. She doubted if it would be any time soon.

Rane began explaining the situation in the Athol Territories.

"I've been trying to covertly derail Ellis' plans to gain control. But I've been countered at every turn, it's almost as if someone knows what I'm doing before I do. The last success I had against him was when I rescued you and Cally. I dare not take more direct action or I run the risk of losing my neutrality status, which would threaten the security of our people. So far they've just been squabbling amongst themselves and leaving the government and the civilians alone. Because of my status, I've been able to step in whenever they threaten to step over the bounds, and they back off. But if I take more direct action, then I will lose that status and the people will be defenceless."

"You're walking a fine line, old soldier," said Jenna. _You always did, even in the old days with Feltar. You may have hated it, but you were very good at it._

"Yes, I've been feeling like one of those acrobats in the town squares, trying to balance on increasingly smaller bottles. At the moment, if things keep going the way they are, Ellis will be in full control within six months. That would be very bad for the whole Sector. Ellis is very much pro-Federation."

"He wasn't before," said Jenna. "What's changed?"

"That I don't know," replied Rane. "I was hoping you might be able to help me find out there Jenna. You used to have some _interesting_ contacts here."

"You mean criminal ones," said Jenna.

Rane grinned.

"Do you think he's been receiving some help? Specifically Federation help?" asked Argus. Where the Federation was involved, he was instantly suspicious. With his personal experience, he had good reason to be.

"It's possible, but none of my security people have spotted anything. Another strange thing is that Kam's forces don't appear to be doing anything, and Ellis hasn't made any moves against him. Ellis is focusing his sole attention on Borel's military units. Kam has the second strongest force, he should be the one challenging Ellis, not Borel."

Kam was the dead Overlord's oldest son, he had the support of some of the oldest families on Athol Prime. Ellis, the middle son and the most devious and treacherous, had the support of many of some of the most powerful warlords in the sector. He was the one who tried to put pressure on Rane, by kidnapping Jenna. Borel, the youngest, was a brilliant military strategist who had the backing of a large number of the Border Defense units.

All of the warlords in the Sector had already allied themselves with whichever son promised them the most benefits or who they thought would stand the best chance of winning. Consequently, most of them were currently split between Kam and Ellis.

"How can we help?" asked Argus.

"It's probably best that no one knows that your ship is here for now," Rane said.

"Yes, I remember what happened the last time," said Jenna with a scowl, remembering how the _Justice_ had become a focal point for unwelcome political intrigue because of the power the ship represented.

"I'll direct Vila to keep it hidden behind the moon when we check in with him tomorrow," said Argus. Argus smiled inwardly, he wondered how Vila was doing.

"Argus, can you go out and make contact with Borel and give him whatever aid you can? Tell him that I sent you and give him this." Rane took off a ring with his family crest, a triangular shield crossed with a jeweled sword and a bird in flight, and handed it to the rebel leader. "Borel is the only one stopping Ellis from taking control at the moment, we have to make sure he doesn't lose."

"I will do my best," said Argus, trying not to sound like he was going to enjoy it. He was relishing the chance to be close to, if not be in the middle of, military combat again. Years of working with rebel civilians was not quite the same and the past half year on the _Justice_, had really strained his patience.

"I think Cally can help do some infiltrating of Kam's camp," said Jenna. "We need to find out what is going on and Kam already knows my face."

Cally nodded her agreement. She looked over at her companion, even though it sounded like the old Jenna, full of intrigue and plots, the Auron was vaguely aware of something else. Cally was surprised, she had never really been able to 'read' the other woman's emotional state before.

_You're very nervous about this and it has nothing to do with the situation we're going into, _thought the Auron. Cally wondered if the other woman was still haunted by what happened on C-812.

* * *

"Vila," Argus chimed over the ship's speaker.

"What?" Vila replied, to no one in particular, since he hadn't activated the comm. He was sprawled out on the ground in the conference area of the flight deck. He had fallen asleep on the couch and had somehow rolled onto the floor without waking up. Argus's voice over the ship's comm had woken him up.

ORAC, when it realized that Vila was not instructing Zen to make the rendezvous, and repeated attempts by Zen to get Vila's attention had failed, the computer had Zen follow the coded instructions left by Argus and had positioned the _Justice_ back over Athol Prime in time for the rendezvous.

"Wake up Vila!," Argus shouted over the speaker. This was the commander-voice which did not take 'no' for an answer.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" said Vila as he reached over to activate the comm and struggled to get up at the same time, but his right leg, which he had been sleeping awkwardly on, had fallen asleep and he almost fell over.

"We don't need the _Justice_ for awhile. It's best if you keep it hidden behind the moon for now and keep the anti-detector screen on. We're going out on some tasks for Rane and won't be in contact for awhile. Keep an eye out for any Federation presence. Let's make the next contact in six standard days, same time. Argus out."

"Hey wait a minute! You can't just shut me off like that! We have things to talk about! Argus!" shouted Vila, frantically pushing the comm button. But it was already too late, he had missed his chance.

"What am I now, just a bloody passenger?"

Vila did not relish spending the next six days, bored to death, and with no alcohol to keep him company.

"Vila," Argus's voice sounded over the ship's comm again. "Check the cupboard in my cabin, _after_ you direct Zen to return to the position behind the moon. Argus out."

"Check the…" Vila rushed out. A few moments later, he rushed back in. "Zen go back to the moon where we were before, standard by six."

"Confirmed."

Vila had run out of the flight deck again before he could hear the reply from the ship's computer.

* * *

Avon was sitting in his cell, rubbing his knee, and waiting for the medtech with his sedatives. He had just finished another work session; he was slowly and reluctantly building the design for the new security system, one which would protect the techno-virus and would keep him trapped forever. Avon knew that he was working much slower than the minders would have liked and he could tell they were getting very impatient with him; but there had been no punishment. Someone must have given them orders to leave him alone while he recovered physically from what they did to him in the isolation cells.

Normally, as he grew stronger, he would begin to test the boundaries of what he could get away with, becoming increasingly more difficult to handle until someone allowed them to curb his rebellion; but he didn't have the heart anymore.

Avon closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain.

There was a hollowness inside him; they had succeeded in making him nothing more than a tool. Sometimes he thought he would have even welcomed the nightmares; at least then, he would feel something; but it was better not feel anything, it made being used much easier.

Avon was grateful for whatever circumstances had prevented Servalan from asking him to be brought to her since the day she and Sester had crushed him. He wasn't sure he could stand being used that way as well, not right now. It probably would have destroyed whatever spirit he had left.


	3. Chapter 3

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Needs are Never Simple**

Chapter Three

"I might bring him up," Vila mused to ORAC as he took another small drink of the green alcohol from his glass. He was trying to make it last. "Or I might not. It depends."

ORAC wasn't paying attention since Vila hadn't asked it a question or made a request.

In Argus's cabin, in the cupboard where he had directed Vila, had been two full decanters of alcohol. Real alcohol, not the liquid trying to imitate as alcohol, which was currently coming out of the liquor dispensers.

Vila had marked off each of the bottles into three sections, top, middle and bottom. He was planning to make it last for the six days until the next contact with Argus. The thief wondered if he could distill the imitation .1 percent of alcohol into something stronger, in case Argus was late. He had already searched Argus's cabin from top to bottom and opened every lock he could find, on the off chance that the rebel leader had some other hidden source of alcohol, but had found nothing.

* * *

"He's very good," remarked Rane to Jenna as they watched Argus leave, from the security monitors in Lelea's quarters in the inn. "Hent said that he wouldn't mind working with him again and you know how Hent is like with Earthers." 

"Argus was one of their best Land Commanders before he quit his commission, just one step ahead of a court martial," said Jenna.

"What did he do?" asked Rane.

"He's never talked about it and there are no records," said Jenna. Federation Land Force commando group activities, just like the activities of the Death Squads, were almost always classified. "The only thing I know is that he reacts very strongly if anyone ever mentions it, so I learned early on never to ask. From the first day I met him though, he's always carried a great burden and he always pushes himself harder than anyone else."

"I've noticed that," said Rane. "One day he's going to get himself killed."

"Yes, he will bend backwards to make sure he won't get anyone else killed, but he wouldn't hesitate to get himself killed," said Jenna. "He worries me sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" asked Rane, looking at the young woman questioningly.

"Where is your mind going, you old soldier?"

"You always did like the heroic self-sacrificing rebel types."

"Argus doesn't see himself that way."

"Heroic, self-sacrificing and modest, that's quite the combination. If I were a woman, I'd fall for him."

"Am I going to have to kill you?" asked Jenna with mock-seriousness.

"After I saved your life?"

"That only makes us even," said Jenna.

Rane laughed. Jenna tried to keep a stern face indicating her disapproval, but couldn't help laughing too.

"Besides, I've never seen Argus look at any woman that way," said Jenna. "Not to say that he doesn't have a healthy appetite, but he won't let anyone get that close to him; and he's very strict about not getting involved with anyone he leads, not even casually."

"Wise policy."

"But sometimes, when he doesn't think anyone's looking, he looks lost and alone." _And he always ends up finding something dangerous for himself to do._

"That's a little too much information for me," said Rane. He was never the kind that a woman would say, that he had an overly sensitive side. "But being alone is one of the burdens of leadership."

"Not this kind of alone," said Jenna.

"When are you and Cally going to see your contacts?" Rane asked.

"Tonight. My criminal contacts prefer operating at night," Jenna replied.

* * *

Cally regained consciousness first. Shaking off the effects of the knock-out gas, she tried to make out details in the dim light from a overhead light source she could not quite make out. Her hands were shackled, the chains were attached by bolts to the wall. She noticed Jenna next to her, the woman was also awake and trying to shake off the effect of the knock-out gas. 

They appeared to be in a storage room of some kind. Various supplies of edibles in crates and several shelves of cooking oil, spices, and other kitchen essentials lay against the wall, just out of reach.

"Jenna, is this going to be a normal procedure when trying to meet your contacts? I think I would like to come better prepared next time."

"Yes, this is getting somewhat repetitive, isn't it?" said Jenna, sounding definitely annoyed.

* * *

Psychostrategist Tace was appearing on the Federation President's vidscreen at the Terran Presidential Palace. He was one of three in the psychostrategy team assigned to direct Federation interests in Sector Ten. 

"Madame President, I assure you, the situation is well under control here."

"You are sure that Ellis Reve can be trusted?"

"He definitely can _not_ be trusted," said the psychostrategist, "that's why we can trust him."

The Federation President was not following this logic. She did not understand how Federation interests were being advanced by trusting someone who definitely could not be trusted.

_This must be a psychostrategy logic I am not following._

Even after working with psychostrategist Sester for almost two years, she still did not understand what he did to achieve his results. She only knew that he was very effective.

"Very well, you do not need to explain it to me, just get me results. I want that Sector in-line within six months."

"Of course, Madame President."

Servalan closed the connection and brought up a summary listing of the days reports.

Federation Banking: new banking security system functioning satisfactorily, no further security breaches; although Central Security is still having problems tracking down the culprits.

_So Avon's new security system for Banking is holding. Of course it would._

Admiral Colair: still no activity along the alien border.

Servalan still could not get rid of her uneasy feelings about that area, even with the total lack of anything interesting happening. _I won't believe that until the new Mark II fleet is ready and we can send scouting missions beyond the rim_.

Space Command report on Sector three: Task Force 336 having problems trying to hold the trade lanes open in Sector three. The smugglers and pirates in that region appeared to be in an all-out war and are attacking anything moving through that region.

_Task Force 336, those are the idiots who lost the Justice crew. Remember to check with Space Command on sending someone better out there._

Central Security report: The rebel groups had been quiet since the destruction of Argus's WED group, but there has been some activity recently among some of the older colonies . Central Security is watching it very closely. Several undercover agents had been dispatched.

_Will have to keep an eye on that. Destroying Argus's group was a great help. Will see if we can pull off another one like that._

Space Command report: no sightings of the _Justice_ since they were last spotted at C-812.

Servalan sighed. The trap at C-812 had only partially worked; it only succeeded in trapping Avon further, but the crew had escaped. Space Command could not spare more ships to look for them, not since TF 336 had been diverted to Sector three.

_I wonder if we can use Avon to trap them? What would they do for a chance to kill Avon?_

Servalan smiled at that thought. _I_ _will have to speak to Tarvin of Central Security to explore that possibility._

_Avon_. With that thought, the Federation President turned on her side vidscreen which provided a private feed from the Federation Special Detention Centre. The view currently showed a small cell bathed in harsh light, and it's single occupant who was seated on a metal sleep platform; his knees were drawn up, his arms wrapped protectively around them, and his forehead resting on his arms. Servalan reached out and touched the figure on the screen. He looked so sad.

She knew Avon would have hated anyone thinking of him that way.

* * *

Avon was trying to rest. Being in the lab had become increasingly difficult, it felt like each day he was putting another nail into his own coffin. 

It was odd that in this day and age, when deceased citizens were generally vapourized, the concept of a coffin was still understood.

Avon heard the cell door open and lifted his head, it was the psychostrategist. Sester always had a relaxed and confident air and strode into his cell as if he could do anything; which he could. The strategist sat down facing the sleep platform. Avon leaned back tiredly against the wall and waited, his face an impassive mask.

"How are you feeling Avon?"

"Don't use it this time," said Avon with his characteristic lack of emotion, "I will talk to you."

Avon had noticed that the short-term use of the mind trigger which forced his brain to work, was causing progressively worse headaches with each application. The last thing he wanted was more pain to accompany the already unbearable pain from his knee.

Sester noted that Avon still looked exhausted, even though they were no longer subjecting him to punishing hours in the lab. He wondered if the sedative mixture was no longer as effective and whether the dosages needed to be increased. The body tended to develop a resistance to the long term usage of drugs.

"Very well. I had some of the President's security specialists look over your preliminary designs."

"You were checking up on me," stated Avon.

"Yes," the psychostrategist acknowledged.

Avon looked him, not responding.

Sester continued, "They were quite impressed. You're doing good work Avon, even though I know it is difficult for you."

"Do you want me to thank you, or strangle you?"

Sester smiled. He preferred not using the mind trigger on the analyst unless he had to; as long as he responded like this, Sester would not have to force him.

By the time Sester ended their conversation though, he had nothing to smile about. It was evident that Avon was still only going through the motions in their interaction; only responding because he was required to. There was no calculation for wit here, no verbal sparring. The responses were clever but only mechanically so.

"You're not satisfied are you?" asked Avon, noticing the look on the psychostrategist's face. "I'll try to do better. Just don't activate it."

Sester looked at the analyst. This was the second time tonight that he had asked that the mind trigger not be used.

"Why Avon?"

"It's been giving me headaches afterwards. Bad ones."

"I didn't realize. You mean, it's happening everytime we use it?"

"No, not in the lab. Just when it's used short-term, like you've been doing."

"You should have said something."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Of course it does, your mind is very valuable. I will speak to the Centre doctors."

"It still won't make a difference in what you wanted from me tonight."

"And what did you think that was?"

"You wanted a worthy opponent, I'm not that anymore."

_You don't even care to win anymore, do you?_ thought Sester, finally understanding.

In order to fight, you had to have a heart, else you are little more than a chess computer. Sester found no great joy in beating a computer, it was only an intellectual exercise.

Avon's mind still functioned, his heart no longer did. Even the application of the mind trigger could not force his heart to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"What is Borel like?" asked Argus.

The rebel leader was on the flight deck of one of the Athol Elite Guard's fast pursuit ships, speaking with Commander Hent. Hent had been the commander of the group, Olean Rane had lent to the _Justice_ crew in order to rescue the treacherous Avon.

"Good man," said Hent. "Brilliant general. Served with distinction with Border Command. He's the only one of Overlord Reve's sons I respect. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty and he doesn't play dirty, unlike the other two."

Coming from Hent, this was high praise indeed.

"That must have put him at a disadvantage," said Argus.

"That's why Overlord Reve sent him out to Border Command in the first place."

"To protect him?" Argus asked.

Hent laughed, "No. If he hadn't, there would have been civil war years ago, not just now. Borel didn't stand for the nonsense of his brothers and he is just as hard-headed as they are, and even more prone to action than they are. The Overlord hoped that Borel would learn some tactical patience, as he called it."

_Sounds like they should have all been preparing for this years ago_, thought Argus. _More prone to action, that must be the diplomatic term for it._

"Do you think he learned some tactical patience?" asked Argus.

"You can judge for yourself."

**********

Borel Reve's base of operations was one of the border planets out near the edge of the system. Commander Hent had lent Argus a fast scout shutte to make the rest of the journey.

"Can't take you in any closer," Hent had said. "Rane's orders. The scout will do for you. The coordinates have already been set in the navigation computer. When you're challenged, just say you have a message for Borel and show them the ring, that should get you in. The rest is up to you. It's best you don't go in armed. Good luck."

As Argus piloted the scout shuttle, he wondered how much of a cliché it would be to say, "Take me to your leader."

**********

"Maybe next time, we should bring Vila," said Cally as she once again tried to slip her wrists through the cuffs. There was a bit of give but not enough; all she succeeded in doing was wearing the skin raw around her wrist.

"I'm seriously considering it," said Jenna.

In frustration, Cally yanked the chain hard. It partially detached itself from the wall. Cally looked at it in astonishment. Either she didn't know her own strength, or there was a weakness in the bolt attaching the chain to the wall. She could have sworn that she had yanked on that same chain before without any success. Cally stood up, took hold of the chain where it was attached to the wall, braced her foot up against the wall and using the combined strength of her leg and arm, pulled as hard as she was capable of.

Jenna was about to ask the Auron girl what she was doing but at that moment, the chain came free from the wall and dropped to the ground with a loud crash. Cally had lost her footing and fell with it.

They both froze, listening. There was no indication that anyone else had heard. They both breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good," said Jenna. "But what does that accomplish? You're other hand is still chained. Unless you can yank that free too."

Cally tried the same method with the other chain, but this time to no avail.

"I guess it was too much to ask for a second miracle," said Jenna.

Cally looked around the room. She realized that with one hand free now, the shelves which were just out of reach before, were now near enough for her to reach some of the items, one of which was the cooking oil. And there had been some give in the cuffs before.

"I don't know about a miracle," said Cally, "but would you settle for some oil?" She held up the bottle which she had just obtained from one of the shelves.

"Very neat."

Within a few minutes both women were free and slightly oily.

"I think it's time we gave our respects to our host," said Jenna, picking up a rolling pin.

Cally looked around and then stuffed several hard, round fruits into her pockets. Their choices of weapons were somewhat limited.

Several minutes later, they were moving stealthily up the stairs, their assorted weapons in hand. Whoever had seen fit to imprison them had not bothered locking the door and posting a guard. They obviously had no idea what damage two women with a rolling pin and assorted fruits could do.

**********

"What did the doctors say?" Servalan asked Sester who was appearing on her vidscreen.

"They said that it was to be expected. This kind of conditioning causes a great stress on the brain. It takes time for it to adjust to working at the heightened level being forced upon it. Once it adjusts, then its fine. That's why he has no problems in the lab."

"And when he's not in the lab?"

"When it's used for short periods of time, it doesn't give the brain enough time to adjust before it's turned off. It causes a great confusion of signals, and this causes the pain he's been experiencing."

"Why didn't he have this problem before? We've used it for short periods in the past without this happening."

"He was stronger then, Servalan. His mind was able to fight the effects but he's very weak now. He's only recovering physically. You've been watching my sessions with him?"

She nodded.

"He's given up. He still won't give you everything but for everything else, he's given up. He just lets things happen to him now without fighting back or even getting angry."

"How far is he with the new security design?"

"He should be almost finished. Another day, two at the most."

"Very well, send him to me when you're done."

"You're still insisting on this?"

"You really must learn to trust me Sester."

**********

"I think the next time I see him, I'm going to kill him," said Vila, addressing ORAC.

It was not apparent to ORAC who the 'him' being referred to was. ORAC did not bother responding when there was no direct question or request made of it and besides, it was busy. Trying to find information on this techno-virus was proving to be an extremely difficult challenge given the restrictions which Avon had given the computer; it was proving even more difficult than tracing one line through the pattern of infinity.

Vila was monitoring things on the flight deck. He was extremely bored and was really trying hard not to dip into the next day's ration of alcohol he had limited himself to.

There had been a couple of close calls with ships approaching, but none of them had been Federation and with the anti-detector screen on, none of them had noticed a rather large ship orbiting dangerously close to the moon.

"The next time Avon needs to be rescued, I'm just going to let him die," said Vila, "that would serve him right." ORAC didn't bother pointing out that this sentence was incongruous with the thief's prior statement. The computer noted that Vila often said things which didn't make sense to it.

**********

"Keep your hands where I can see them."

Argus was surrounded by a two dozen of Borel Reve's black and green clad soldiers, all pointing rifles at him.

The rebel leader put his hands up slowly. After leaving the scout shuttle, he had proceeded on foot towards Borel's base and had encountered this patrol.

_If I knew that saying, 'Take me to your leader" would have this kind of reaction, I would have said something else._

Well, he didn't quite say that, it was closer to "Take me to Borel" and brandishing of the ring, which was now situated in the pocket of one of the soldiers pointing a rifle at him.

They bound his hands behind him with a coarse rope and marched him away. Argus hoped that this was just an indication that Borel's men were being overly cautious and that they were actually taking him to see their leader.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Cally and Jenna crept along the hallway silently, with Jenna taking the lead. She gripped her rolling pin in readiness. The ground floor of the building they were in, had so far yielded no information other than this was a large private residence of some rich individual. As they neared the end of the corridor, they could hear muffled voices coming from one of the rooms.

"Ellis will be pleased," said one of the voices. This was a high female voice.

"I expect to be well compensated," said another voice. This one was male and had a deep resonating bass quality.

_Ellis again_, thought Jenna. _He must have a deathwish to still want to do this after Rane warned him off._

"I didn't think that Delik would do it," remarked the feminine voice.

_Delik. _That was Jenna's contact. _I must get more reliable contacts._

"Well, if you're going to carry on with the governer's wife and be indiscreet enough to have some rather embarrasing holos taken, you're just asking for trouble. He just never thought that trouble would be me."

The man and woman laughed.

_Delik. You should have known better_, thought the ex-smuggler.

"Where have you put them Cretis?"

"I've put them in the food cellar, sir. They're chained to the wall."

This third voice was polite and diffident.

"Make sure they don't escape. They represent millions of credits. Have you placed a guard?"

"A guard sir? I didn't think that was necessary, they're secured by heavy chains and they _are_ women."

Jenna smiled. _They've never met women like us_.

The deep bass voice continued, "You idiot! Get one of the gardeners in here to guard the door to the food cellar."

"I'm a butler sir, I am not used to criminal activity." The polite voice sounded offended.

_A gardener? Just who kidnapped us? _Thought Jenna. She looked at Cally who was listening intently to the conversation on the other side of the door. She had a puzzled look as well.

"They sound like amateurs," whispered Jenna. "I think we can handle them."

Cally nodded.

At that moment the door began to open. Instantly, Cally grabbed the hand opening the door and yanked the person forward. Reacting on instinct, Jenna hit the man on the back of the head with the rolling pin. Even as the man fell to the ground, Jenna and Cally rushed inside. As they entered and before anyone inside could register what was happening, Jenna had struck another man by the door with her heavy weapon. He also fell crashing to the ground. At the same time, Cally had taken two of the hard fruits from her pocket and threw them in rapid succession. It was all over in the matter of seconds. A man was groaning on the ground, holding a bleeding forehead where one of the fruits had struck him. The owner of the female voice was holding her shoulder and trying to check on the man.

"Not bad," noted Jenna as she searched the men and woman for weapons and looked for something to tie them up.

Cally did not comment on her own brilliant aim and went about checking the various injuries they had just inflicted.

"Myler, wake up," the woman told the injured man.

The man moaned and rubbed his head where the fruit had hit him.

"Myler? Myler Reve?", asked Jenna. This was Ellis Reve's uncle and the Overlord Reve's ambitious and cowardly brother. The Reve clan was never lacking in overly ambitious people.

"Yes, he is," said the woman with a haughty air, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll leave now before we call the authorities."

"And how would you explain that you kidnapped two women and chained them in your cellar?" asked Jenna.

"You're…" the woman blurted out.

"Yes, we're the women from the cellar."

"Myler! Do something!"

"What do you propose that I do, my dear?" the man asked. He was still rubbing his sore head.

"They're women! With fruit! Don't just lie there! Disarm them or something!" the woman demanded.

"I was wondering what hit me," the man said. He looked at Cally and Jenna, and then at his two men lying unconscious on the floor. The women looked like they were capable of anything. "Sometimes women with fruit and a rolling pin are even more dangerous," he told the woman.

_Smart man, _thought Cally.

**********

In Myler Reve's study, after the various people had been tied up, Jenna began questioning the man and woman. Cally was applying first aid to the still unconscious butler who had been hit very hard by Jenna's rolling pin and suffered a severe concussion.

"I thought Feltar had warned you to stay out of playing politics," said Jenna.

"That was when he was alive," countered Myler Reve.

"So you think, that now he's dead, you can take advantage of the situation?" Jenna asked.

"Wouldn't you?"

"And you thought that kidnapping me was the easiest way to do it?"

"Obviously I was mistaken."

Jenna saw that the man was regretting this mistake. She almost laughed but didn't, being defeated by two women who were using nothing but a rolling pin and some fruit would not have put her in a good mood either.

"You know that Rane has already warned Ellis that I'm off limits in this little game between the brothers?"

"Rane?" Myler Reve's voice had raised in alarm. The Overlord had asked Rane to curb his brother's overly ambitiious activities. Rane had been very effective.

"No. Ellis didn't mention it." It was clear Myler realized that he had made a _very_ serious mistake and that his nephew had been less than informative.

Jenna had never met Myler Reve before, but she had learned a lot about him from Olean Rane. She knew the man was infinitely reasonable when it came to his personal survival.

"This is what you're going to do," directed Jenna. "You and your wife will retire from this little foray into politics and you will disappear. You will not tell Ellis any of this. Believe me, he would not be very impressed with you if you did; and you know Ellis does not like people who disappoint him. In return, I will not tell Rane. I do not want to see you or your wife in these Territories again."

As she expected, Myler saw the value in her offer immediately. It was not healthy to have both Rane and Ellis not happy with him. "That's a fair deal."

"And I want what you have on Delik."

_It's time to make Ellis feel nervous, _thought Jenna_, I'm tired of waking up in cellars._

Delik was a very useful man.

**********

Argus was tied to a tree. The soldiers were making camp and appeared to be in no hurry. Some were putting up tents while others were readying the afternoon meal. Sentries had been posted at strategic points. A group of them had left earlier in the day on some unspecified task and had not returned. Argus counted ten men left; he was always very aware of things like that.

_Being tied to a tree is not quite what I had in mind_, Argus thought.

The ropes securing him to the tree were uncomfortably tight as he tested their strength. There was no play in the rope and with armed soldiers all around, there was no opportunity to slip away even if he could manage to free himself.

Argus waited and listened.

When the meal was ready, a young soldier and an older one with a beard came to untie him and gave him a share of the food the others were eating. Neither one of them spoke to him and they ignored his questions. After he was done, they allowed him time to take care of other personal activities, then tied him back up and went to eat their own meal.

As Argus listened to the conversations nearby, it became clear that these were not Borel's men. They were wearing uniforms of one of Borel's units though and they appeared to be waiting for further orders.

_Infiltrators_, thought Argus. _That must be why Borel is having so much trouble with some of his units. Have to get away from here and let him know. Have to get that ring back._

After the evening meal was finished and things were cleared away, the soldiers did what soldiers often do for fun and relaxation, they had contests which pitted their skills against each other. Today's contest appeared to be knife-fighting.

The two which Argus recognized as the ones who brought him a meal were standing in the centre, knives drawn and trying to draw first blood. The others were arranged around them in a loose circle cheering them on and giving advice.

The younger one clearly had little experience. It was not really a fair fight.

"Not that way," said one of the onlookers. He was the oldest of the soldiers and was the sergeant of the group. He got up, took the knife from the younger man and proceeded to show him the proper techniques.

Argus shook his head, trying not to laugh. It was clear that none of them had any real knife-fighting experience. In an age when laser pistols and rifles were the norm, old-fashioned knife-fighting seemed to be a lost art. Argus's commando groups were among the few exceptions among the Federation troops; they specialized in killing silently. A knife was simple, effective and very quiet.

"You find something funny?" asked one of the onlookers, a corporal who had sandy-coloured hair had noticed Argus's attempt to suppress his laughter.

"Funny? No. Sad? Yes," Argus replied.

"This one thinks he can do better," the sandy-haired man said loudly so that all of his companions could hear. He clearly meant to make trouble.

_You don't know what trouble is_, thought Argus.

The sergeant came over and looked down at Argus, obviously trying to intimidate. "You think you can do better Earther?"

Argus didn't ask how the man knew he was from Earth. This was not a good sign.

"Not when I'm tied to this tree, I can't," Argus replied. The challenge was clear.

"Untie him," the sergeant couldn't pass up that challenge, as Argus had expected.

"Do you think that's a good idea sergeant?" asked the sandy-haired corporal. "Wouldn't it be better just to beat him up?"

"I'll tell you if it's a good idea soldier. Besides what can he do. If he makes a break for it, we'll make sure he never walks again, right?" the sergeant tapped his holster.

The others laughed.

The young soldier bent down and untied the ropes.

Argus got up slowly and painfully as blood flowed back into the areas the tight ropes had almost cut off circulation to. He stretched and tried to move his arms and legs. When he felt ready, he looked confidently and expectantly at the sergeant.

Without hesitation, the sergeant directed the young soldier, "Give him your knife."

_Another mistake_, thought Argus.

The young man hesitated then extended the knife, hilt first, to Argus.

The rebel leader studied the knife briefly, getting the feel of it. He balanced it on his forefinger, finding the exact centre of balance of the blade, then he began to spin it, flat along his finger. He flipped it on its end a few times and rotated it in a concentric circle with the blade tip at the centre, familiarizing himself with it. When he was ready, he held it loosely. _Not bad. A bit weighted forward for my liking._

"That's very entertaining," said the sandy-haired corporal, "Can you do any other tricks?" The other men laughed.

_Do you want to see how fast I can wipe that smile off your face?_ Thought Argus.

"Try to attack me," Argus directed the bearded man still holding the knife. The man looked at the sergeant, who nodded.

The man lunged forward with his blade and stopped suddenly. Argus's blade had appeared magically at his throat. The man had barely raised his arm to strike.

All of the faces were no longer smiling. All of them could swear they had not seen Argus move. A couple of jaws had dropped. Several were so shocked that their hands had gone to their holsters.

_Neat trick, huh?_ Thought Argus as he slowly removed the blade from the man's throat.

"Do you want to see it again?" he asked challengingly.

A couple of them were going to say that hadn't seen it the first time but none of them did. They didn't want to look weak in front of this man who was supposed to be their prisoner and who a few moments ago had been tied to a tree.

The sandy-haired corporal was not happy and stepped forward, his own knife drawn. "Try it on someone who actually has some experience," he challenged.

The corporal was much more cautious. He circled Argus, looking for an opening. They all watched carefully this time, looking at the rebel leader's shoulder, arm and hand.

After a few moments of no action other than circling, Argus sighed, the man was being too cautious. An experienced fighter would have taken his measure by now. Good fighters were quick and knew exactly what they were doing. Argus decided to move things along and deliberately left an opening. The corporal immediately saw it and lunged forward with a slashing blow.

_Well, at least you're not completely useless_, thought Argus, _you did see the opening._

Argus did not bother to move out of the way of the man's strike, he only bent his body inwards a few inches; the man's slash completely missed him. As the corproal's knife cleared Argus's body, he found that Argus's blade had again magically appeared at his throat and his knife hand was now trapped by Argus's other hand.

Again, even though they had all watched carefully, none of them saw how he did it. Argus had barely seemed to move.

His actions were relaxed, lightning fast and there was no wasted motion. There was no hesitation or preparation to strike. Thought was action. When he moved, his body was completely silent. They had watched all the areas which normally telegraphed movement and there had been none.

Argus slowly removed his blade from the corporal's throat and seemingly, absent-mindedly, flipped the blade to his other hand, so that it faced towards himself and moved his hand in a straight line backwards behind him. Argus turned around and looked behind him. The tip of his blade now rested lightly against the stomach of a short-bearded man who had been attempting to strike him from the rear.

"Good reflexes," Argus said to the man who had just barely stopped himself from being impaled on the rebel leader's knife.

"Never attack someone from behind if the sun is behind you," Argus admonished the man, his tone clearly conveying how he felt about people stupid enough to do that; and people who tried to stab other people in the back in general.

"Sorry about that one," said the old sergeant placatingly, his tone also clearly indicating his disdain for back-stabbers, "No honour among the young anymore. Join me for a drink."

As Argus and the soldiers sat talking into the night, sharing drinks and an easy cameraderie and humour only soldiers understood, Argus was reminded of his commando group days; not that this group was like them but they were soldiers and Argus understood that. He missed those days with his men.

"Where did you pick up those tricks with the knife?" Tain asked. Tain was the name of the old sergeant.

"A misspent youth," Argus lied smoothly. He wasn't about to reveal to them that he was a former Federation commando.

The old sergeant was a man Argus was coming to respect. The man was a dinosour among this group, still clinging to ideals such as honour. Argus was beginning to understand that this was an outdated idea in Ellis' army. The young one, Maxle was very young; Argus didn't remember ever being that young. Maxle clearly looked up to Tain, and Tain treated him as a protege. The others were hardened soldiers, very much like the Federation troops Argus had spent most of his life around.

They all had questions for Argus regarding his knife skills.

"Would you mind teaching us a few?" asked Tain.

"As long as you don't tie me to the tree again," Argus told him.

"Do you agree not to escape?"

"You know I can't promise that."

"Fair enough. How about we just handcuff you and place a guard?"

"That's fine." Argus wasn't about to tell them they had just made another error.

That night as Argus lay down to sleep, his hands handcuffed behind him and a guard nearby, Argus dreamt of an old friend.

_Argus sat at the bar in the West Europ Dome, nursing a drink. He felt strange in civilian clothing, and even stranger surrounded by people not wearing uniforms. A man came in. Argus waved him over._

_"__Didn't think you would make it," Argus told the man._

_"__They keep us busy at Space Command," replied the black-haired man as he ordered a drink from the bartender. He carried himself like Argus, a career military man. "I understand congratulations are in order, Commander Argus."_

_Argus raised his glass in acknowledgement. He had just received confirmation about his promotion several days ago._

_"__And you, Commander Travis." They both laughed. Travis had just received his promotion a month ago._

_"__Didn't we say that the last one to make commander, gets to buy all the drinks?" Travis asked._

_"__You only beat me by a couple of weeks Travis," said Argus. The two men were always good-naturedly competitive._

_"__I still outrank you."_

_"__Only for a few more days."_

_The two men had met at command school, only two of a handful of alphas amongst a sea of beta grades._

_"__Command school seems like so long ago," said Argus._

_"__Those betas soon learned that alphas are not to be messed with."_

_"__Yes," said Argus with a smile, remembering all the betas who had learned painful lessons at his and Travis' hands._

_It was not common for alphas to follow the route of the fighting grades. They __usually ended up in the staff grades and rarely associated with the rank and file. As a result, alphas were a common target for bullying at the command school for the fighting grades. Everyone liked to take an alpha down a peg or two._

_The two men caught up on the past half year. Being in different commands, they didn__'t often have a chance to meet. Many hours later, a very drunk military commander and soon-to-be commander were mellow and in an introspective mood._

_"__What do you suppose civilians talk about?" asked Travis._

_"__They probably ask each other about their families or significant others or something like that," replied Argus. He thought he sounded very wise._

_"__Well no wonder we're not civilians then," said Travis with perfect logic for a drunken man, "we don't have any of those."_

_They both toasted each other, drained their glasses and ordered another __round._

_"__Though," said Travis, "you almost did once."_

_"__If you bring up her name, I'm going to have to kill you Travis," warned a drunken Argus._

_"__Oops, sorry," the drunken Travis said, "I forgot that you were sensitive about her."_

_"__I really am going to have to kill you," Argus said seriously, then they both burst out laughing._

_"__Alright, alright," said Travis._

_"__How about your significant other?" asked Argus._

_Travis looked confused. __"My what?"_

_"__Roj Blake. Are you still obsessed about catching him?" asked Argus._

_"__Oh him. It won't be long."_

_"__Sounds like you have a plan already."_

_"__Yes, this time we're going to get him," said Travis._

Argus woke up; he still remembered the dream. That was the last time he remembered Travis smiling. Everything had changed after that. The rebel leader wondered what had prompted his subconscious to bring up this memory.


	6. Chapter 6

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Needs are Never Simple**

Chapter Six

Avon unlocked his manacles and put them on the liquor cabinet along with the key. He poured two glasses of wine and limped painfully over to where Servalan was sitting on the couch. It was a familiar routine.

Since finishing the new security system, he had been expecting some kind of torture. Servalan wanted him punished for what he did during the forty hours when he was out of her hands; and now it appeared she wanted to do it herself.

This was the first time she had him brought to her since she and Sester had forced the last compromise from him. Avon had not known what he would do when she did; but now, in her bedroom, he knew he would give her what she wanted. He had no illusions that she could force his compliance with drugs or with more time in the isolation cells. This was the lesser of the evils. If he still had the heart to, he would have laughed at the choices; to be used or to be tortured. If he was still capable of fighting, he would have chosen the torture.

Before, this was something he endured because he still had a chance.

He would do it now because he was an object to be used. There was a coldness inside him; he no longer cared. Objects had no feeling; it was much easier that way.

Servalan accepted the glass. He sat down beside her waiting for her next command.

"Did I say you could sit down?" she asked.

_So we're playing a different game today_. He got up slowly, trying not to aggravate his knee, and faced her.

Normally she was cold and unforbidding. As Supreme Commander or Federation President, she dispatched fleets and ordered executions with an icy politeness. She had the same smile when sentencing entire worlds to their doom as she did when bestowing favours; but in this bedroom with him, she could be very moody and each mood meant that she would use and torture him in a different way.

"Finish your wine and put the glass down." He did as directed, put the glass down on the table and waited.

"Strip," she told him. As he followed her orders, she watched him. Since arriving from the Detention Centre, he had not even looked at her.

When he finally stood naked before her, she reached out and touched his body. Both the deep cuts and the scratches she had given him over a week ago were almost completely healed. She stood up and circled him, exploring his body as he stood unmoving.

There was great tension in him; it was always there. Sester was right; it was not just because she always kept the analyst guessing as to what she would inflict on him next.

She also sensed something disturbing; it was as if part of him was no longer there.

Stopping behind him, she traced her fingers along his spine, feeling for a specific point in the mid-back. Finding it, she lightly exerted pressure on it; it was very tender. Avon arched away from the unexpected pain.

"Don't move," she ordered. Before he had been brought to her, she had directed that the daily dosage of the muscle relaxant for his back be reduced. It would have worn off by now.

She ran her fingers a little further down his spine. This time, finding another spot she was looking for, she pushed hard against it. He collapsed to his knees and groaned. She had followed him down and put her arms around him, supporting him.

"Can you get up?" she asked.

Through clenched teeth, he replied, "No."

She felt along his back; he flinched but this brought about more pain.

"Don't move," she told him again.

She could feel the muscles in his back spasm.

"It's the old back pain isn't it?"

"Yes. What did you do?"

"Why do you always assume it's me?"

"Am I wrong?"

She lightly pressed against a tender spot, this time he stiffened but did not move or make a sound.

"No you're not wrong. I want you to get up."

"How do you propose I manage that?"

She pressed harder this time, she was rewarded with a groan of pain.

"Keep doing that and I'm going to make you crawl."

_Is that what it's about today? _he thought. He knew he couldn't move. This type of back pain was something he had experienced many times before. It was debilitating. What little movement he was capable of would be excruciating and would only cause his legs to give out.

It was today's game. Normally he would hate her for it, a hatred he would quickly suppress, but he felt nothing.

He clenched his fists and in one motion tried to propelled himself upwards. He cried out and his legs gave out as a paralyzing pain came from his lower back. She supported him and stopped him from pitching forward. He was breathing heavily.

"That's good," she told him. "I'm going to lower you to the ground now. Just relax."

Gently, she let him fall forward and lowered him to the carpet. She felt along his lower back, the muscles were in hard knots. She felt them spasm.

"Stay there," she told him. "Don't try to move."

"I don't plan to." In truth, he doubted he could. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on relaxing the muscles in his back.

_What game are you playing now Servalan?_

Moments later he heard her come back and felt her kneel down beside him.

"Are you sleeping Avon?"

"No."

"I don't appreciate people falling asleep on me when I'm trying to help."

"That must be a strange feeling."

"What?"

"Helping someone."

She smiled.

Startled, he felt something warm being placed on his back. He tried to move but this caused another sharp stab of pain and he groaned.

"Did I say you could move?" she pressed her hand on his upper back and held him still.

"No."

"Now stay still and try to rest, let the heat work."

Leaving him lying on the ground, she picked up her datapad and went over to the couch. She began to review reports and make notes. She was taking time from her busy Presidential schedule to work on him but she still had a lot of work to do. Occasionally she looked over to where he lay, he was being obedient and had not moved.

As she worked, she reflected on their interaction. Sester had been right, Avon had cut himself off, but for some reason, in their interaction, he was still responding to her; it was either due to their history together or it was a by-product of the conditioning.

An hour later she went to check on him.

"Are you asleep?"

"You said not to."

"That's good." She knelt down beside him and made an adjustment to the pad on his back.

Avon felt the heat dissipate and then turn cold.

"Don't move," she told him, anticipating his reaction. She was pressing her hand on his upper back again to prevent movement. "Your muscles are so tight I have to use a regimen of heat and cold. The pad will be alternating the two for the next while."

"Are you a doctor now?"

"Did you know that I once considered that?"

"Becoming a doctor? That's hard to believe."

Her hand wandered slowly down his back, along his side, down his thigh, caressing him. The therapy was for him but he didn't need to be naked for it, that had been for her. She noticed that his breathing had quickened as she touched him; she smiled, that part of him was not dead.

She got up and went back to the couch and her work.

What Servalan was doing puzzled Avon and it made him nervous. He tried to rest. The cold spreading across his back felt good, this was only the second time in the past three years when he had been allowed any stretch of time to himself to think and relax.

After being forced to think for someone else's profit and pleasure for almost two years, he was tired. He had time to think now and he no longer wanted to.

Memories flooded into his consciousness; memories of things they had done to him, of failure and defeat, of each compromise they had forced him to make; memories of the past month. He fought against the tide of memories; but like the nightmares, he no longer had control.

The damage they had done to his mind was obviously having another unpleasant side effect. It probably had happened along time ago but because he was rarely allowed time for himself, it had never surfaced before. With this time he was being given now, it was becoming very apparent.

He clenched his fists, causing the nails to dig into his palms; he had to maintain control. He gasped as his back spasmed in pain. Instantly Servalan was by his side again, she removed the temper-pad and felt along his back.

"You're muscles are tight again; you just undid all of my efforts. What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me," she pressed on one of the tender spots along his spine in warning. When he still did not respond, she put her other hand on his upper back again, pressing down so he could not move. She pressed hard against another point, he gave an involuntary moan of pain.

"Tell me," she commanded him. "Do you really want another lesson in control?"

"I don't want to remember," he confessed to her. It made no difference whether she knew or not, it was only another thing she would force him to give her.

"What don't you want to remember?"

"Everything, I can't stop it, the memories. What you did to my mind; I've lost control, it's not just the nightmares anymore."

As he told her the truth, she released her hold and began stroking his back, trying to comfort him. She had been shocked to hear his admission about the state of his mind, shocked to hear the effects of what they had done to him. Sester's warning had been correct. The mind was a delicate instrument, and with the unrelieved stress they had inflicted on the analyst, and all of the damage they had intentionally caused, his mind was beginning to unravel. They were in danger of losing their valuable tool.

"Don't," he told her as he felt her hands on his body.

She stopped. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You always do."

"Not tonight," she said and touched him gently.

"Don't," he said again, there was anger in his voice. "I will not have your pity."

"Is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it?"

"Even if it is, do you think you have any choice?" She started caressing him again.

"Stop."

"This is an exercise in control Avon, do you think I will stop?"

"What will you do when the damage to my mind extends to my ability to solve the problems you want?"

"You still have other skills, skills that don't require the genius."

He fell silent and held onto the anger, it helped to block out the effect of her hands on his body.

"Nothing else to say?"

"What is there to say? You're going to do whatever you want, you have made it very clear that I no longer have control, not even over my own mind." She had never heard such bitterness in his voice before.

"Don't give up Avon," she said softly.

"Don't say that," he said angrily.

She pressed down hard on his back, he groaned.

She shook her head and sighed; she had promised not to hurt him. "You need to relax Avon."

She picked up the temper-pad, and put it across his back again. "Let's try this again.

Will it help if I keep talking to you?"

"No."

"Don't be angry."

"Why? Are you going to take that away too?" More bitterness.

"You need to relax if you want your back to get better."

"Then give me the drugs again."

"The drugs only deal with the symptoms, we need to fix the problem."

"Then let me go." _I don't want to play this game anymore._

"You know that will never happen, so stop asking. We're going to work on your back until it gets better. You will not leave this room until I'm satisfied so you might as well work with me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now relax."

For the next few hours, as she alternated the heat and cold treatments, she sat beside him and kept his mind occupied.

When his back had finally relaxed enough so he could move, she helped him up.

"Thank you," he told her as she helped him over to the bed.

"For what?"

"For not leaving me alone."

She looked into his eyes, he was being genuine.

"I expect to be well compensated." She smiled at him.

He bent his head down to kiss her.

She put a finger to his lips. "Not now. Your back won't be able to stand the strain yet."

"What are we doing now?" he asked suspiciously, wondering if it was now time for the pain.

"No questions, just lie down on the bed, faced down."

She helped him lower himself onto the bed.

"Don't move," she instructed him.

She sat down beside him and felt along his back.

"You're tense again, just relax."

She took a bottle from her nightstand and poured some of the oil onto her hands. She started on his upper back and began to work the warming oil into his muscles.

He was confused. As he had expected, she was inflicting pain again but it seemed to be different this time.

"I thought I told you to relax," she told him as she felt his continued tension.

"It's hard to relax when you're hurting me."

"It's because your muscles are too tight but you need to try."

She felt him relax and then slowly tense up again.

"You're not cooperating," she accused him.

"I don't trust you."

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you tonight, at least not torture; but if you don't relax, I'm going to forget my promise and I will hurt you."

She felt him slowly relax.

She moved down to his mid-back, this caused a lot more pain.

"You're tensing up again," she told him.

"Are you sure you're not trying to torture me?"

She chuckled. "Stop complaining."

She worked slowly down his spine, reaching areas which were causing the most problems.

As she massaged his back, even though there was pain, Avon began to let go of the tensions. Her hands were talented; he wondered where she had picked up this skill. This was a side of Servalan he had never experienced before, it must have been the side which she used on young Tarrant on the sand planet.

_No wonder he was taken in, you're very good. One would think you were almost human._

Avon was not fooled, it was only a matter of time before the claws came out again. This tactic would not work on him; he never let his guard down. The closest he had ever come to it was with Anna and she had betrayed him in the worse possible way.

"What are you thinking? You just tensed up again," Servalan asked.

_I must be careful. _"You always have that effect on me."

"You're a terrible liar." She told him, pressing against a vulnerable spot.

He grunted, after having been worked on for hours, it was no longer as painful.

"Hmm…you must be feeling better," she noted.

"I'm sure you can fix that."

"Do you really think that I'm that cruel?" she asked.

"I know you are," he replied.

She smiled. "Turn over," she told him. With her help, he rolled over slowly. His back was feeling much better and his body was relaxed. He was sure that wasn't going to last long.

"Take my hands," she told him. "Now sit up." Pulling, she helped him up to a sitting position. "Don't let go," she instructed him as she continued pulling him forward until she met resistance. She pulled a little further and then held him there.

He wasn't quite sure what she was doing at first but he felt his back stretch as she pulled him forward, it felt good. He recognized this as a variant of an exercise Cally had shown him on the Liberator in order to relieve his chronic back pains.

After a few moments she let him pull back, she repeated this exercise several times. For the next while, she put him through various exercises to stretch his back.

"It may not have been a good idea having you naked, you're driving me crazy."

"I can fix that," he offered as he took her into his arms. "You did say you wanted compensation."

"Oh no you don't," she told him, pushing him away. "I'm not having you undoing all my hard work. I think you've had enough exercise for now, now lie back down."

He laughed and fell slowly back onto the bed.

She pressed a bio-injector to his neck and injected the sedative mix. "It's time for you to sleep."

As the sedatives began to take effect, he watched her. She got up and went back to the couch; picking up her discarded datapad, she sat down and started working again.

Avon closed his eyes and slept.

* * *

As Servalan worked, part of her was thinking about Avon. She would have to call in Professor Tarkson; the state of Avon's mind had alarmed her. She had known there would be damage, it had been deliberately inflicted as part of the program to break him down and control him; but this other damage, it was unexpected and troubling. She was not about to give up her valuable asset, something would have to be done.

For now though, it would be useful; in the next few days, as she worked on him, it would make him dependent on her. He needed some peace and she had artificially set up a situation where she could provide it for him.

As Servalan had talked to Avon, it was also clear that he was emotionally unstable, he fluctuated between laughter and anger so swiftly he seemed like two different people. There was also something else, or rather the lack of something in his reactions. Servalan recognized it. Avon had reached this state when he found out Anna had betrayed him; it was as if some fundamental part of him had been ripped out.


	7. Chapter 7

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Needs are Never Simple**

Chapter Seven

The next day Argus played teacher and the soldiers pretended he wasn't their prisoner, at least for a little while. Young Maxle was a quick learner and was soon beating everyone except Argus.

Argus and Tain watched from the sidelines as Maxle took on all comers.

"You're a good teacher," remarked Tain.

"He's a quick study and he's young; has fewer bad habits to unlearn," said Argus.

"Unlike an old soldier like me," said Tain.

"You're at a disadvantage, you have a lifetime of bad habits to overcome," said Argus. He was never one to sugar-coat things. "But you have a lot more important things he can learn from."

"I don't want to make him a dinosaur like me," said Tain.

Argus refrained from making a comment. He understood Tain's sentiments; that was enough. Part of the rebel leader's attention was occupied with the irony that even though they may have to kill each other eventually, they understood each other.

That night he again had dreams of his old friend.

* * *

_Argus burst into Travis' command tent on Zircaster._

_"Why did you send us there?" Argus demanded angrily. "You had to have known they were just civilians!"_

_Travis looked up, his one good eye looking at his irate friend._

_"Did you do it?" the Space Commander asked._

_"You know I did!" said Argus._

_Travis sighed, he knew his friend. "Then are you really angry at me, or yourself?"_

_"Don't play mind games with me Travis. Why did you send us in to kill defenseless civilians?"_

_"It had to be done," said Travis. "You know the rules. We don't question why, we're only here to get results."_

_"There was a time you would never have said that," said Argus._

_"Things change. There is no honour in what we do anymore. There hasn't been in along time," Travis told him._

_"For others maybe, but not for us." Argus did not want to face the truth about his friend._

_"It's too late Argus. You always were a better man than I."_

_"I don't believe that."_

_"Then you don't know me very well. You should never have joined the military Argus, not if you wanted a conscience of your own."_

_After all the things he had been required to do the last few years, Argus realized that Travis was right. He had always been able to keep the detached objectivity required of the good soldier but after today, things would never be the same again._

_"I refuse to do this anymore."_

_"You don't have a choice, my friend. They won't let you go."_

_"I'd like to see them try to stop me."_

_Travis fell silent, contemplating his old friend._

_"We never had this conversation," he said finally, extending his hand in a civilian gesture. He was giving his friend a chance, if he chose to take it. "I don't think we'll be meeting again."_

_Argus gripped the extended hand in a firm shake. He understood what Travis was saying. Little did they both know how prophetic those words would turn out to be. The two friends never met again._

_Shortly afterwards Argus quit his commission, just ahead of being arrested for disobeying another order to massacre civilians. He barely got out in time. His men helped him escape. _

The rebel leader woke from his dream; again he remembered. He had been grateful that the last orders he received as a Federation military commander had not come from his old friend.

_Why am I having these dreams?

* * *

_

"Jenna, perhaps I should stay guard outside while you met this Delik," said Cally. They were both standing in front of the same music shop they had visited several days ago.

"You're afraid of a repeat performance?" asked Jenna.

"I am developing a distinct dislike for cellars," the young woman replied.

Jenna laughed. "You and me both. Alright, you keep an eye on things out here. And you'd better keep these." Jenna handed three holovid crystals they had obtained from Myler Reve to Cally, keeping one herself.

* * *

When Jenna entered the shop, Delik was behind the counter and his back was to the door.

"Delik. Delik. Delik. I'm very disappointed in you," said Jenna.

Delik whirled around at the familiar and unexpected voice. He was a handsome man with dark brown eyes and a gravelly voice which sent shivers down the spines of the opposite sex. He also had an inability to say no to women; which was why he always seemed to be in trouble of some kind.

"Jenna!" he said startled. His hands reached under the counter.

Jenna immediately reacted and whacked him hard on the elbow with the rolling pin before he could reach whatever he was trying to access.

"Ow!" Being hit on the elbow at just the right spot was very painful.

When he reached forward again with his good arm, Jenna rapped him across the knuckles with her rolling pin.

Delik shook his bruised fingers and looked at Jenna's rolling pin in confusion. He was unfamiliar with this kind of weapon, but it had done an effective job on him.

"I think we need to have a little talk," said Jenna. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

"Look Jenna," the handsome man began to explain placatingly, "It was nothing personal, but I had no choice." His mind was thinking quickly, trying to figure out how angry Jenna was with him and how he could squirm his way out of this situation. He was very good at squirming into and out of things. It was one of his many useful talents.

"I know you didn't," said Jenna. She took the holovid crystal from her pocket and placed it on the counter. "It was very indiscreet of you," she remarked.

Delik would have picked up the crystal, if he wasn't in pain at the moment. "I knew it was going to get me in trouble some day," he said wryly. "I suppose you have the rest of them?"

"You guess correctly," Jenna told him.

"But I thought that Myler wanted you taken for a reason." Delik was still trying to understand what was happening.

"He did. I changed his mind for him," explained Jenna, the tone in her voice indicated that the changing of Myler's mind was not something Delik would want to experience himself.

"I see," said Delik. Visions of being hit with the strange weapon again were not appealing. His elbow was still numb. "I suppose you want something from me in exchange for the rest of the crystals?"

"Several somethings," said Jenna.

* * *

During the rest of the day, as Argus taught more tricks to the soldiers, a part of his mind was remembering. The dreams had brought up memories of things he had not thought about in a long time.

"You've spent most of your life in the military too haven't you," asked Tain. "It's written all over you."

"You're right," admitted Argus. They were watching several of the soldiers as they sparred with each other.

"And those knife tricks, you didn't learn them from a misspent youth." This was not a question.

Argus looked at the man, wondering where this conversation was going.

"There aren't many people who can do what you do," Tain continued, "but you don't look like a cold-blooded assassin."

"I'm not," Argus assured him. Part of him wondered if that was really true.

_Maybe not a cold-blooded assassin; more a cold-blooded killer._

He was still haunted by the faces of the defenseless civilians he had killed.

"Why do you work for someone like Ellis?" Argus asked, trying to deflect the man's attention.

"You're an offworlder, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me." The soldier part of Argus realized that it was better not knowing. They were still on opposite sides and regardless of the quasi-friendliness which had been extended to him, he was still their prisoner. He had no illusions that they may be required to kill each other at some point.

"All families in Athol owe their allegiance to whichever lord holds their lands. They call it spheres of influence or some fancy name like that. If the lord decides he wants each family to volunteer a son into military service, we don't have a choice. It's either that or go landless and then you become a target for every opportunist out there. Landed, you are at least are protected by the lord holder. My family volunteered me into military service from the time I could hold a rifle."

"You really didn't have a choice then," said Argus.

"No. But it's not a bad life. Of course it's the only life I've ever known. I don't think I'd know what to do with myself if I became a civilian. What about you? I would guess you're not comfortable when you're not in uniform either."

"Is it that obvious?"

Until the past twenty-four hours with Ellis' soldiers, Argus had not realized how much he missed the excitement, the danger, the cameraderie and the discipline of military life.

"Only to someone who is also career."

"Unlike you, I had a choice." _Well, that's not quite true. It was a choice, of sorts._

"But you're not one now?"

"No. That was also a choice." _Of sorts._

As they continued talking, Argus's mind went back to those days on the run after his men had helped him escape. After months of danger in dark corners and the relentless tenacity of the military security trackers, he had ended up on a remote outpost along the border of Sector 4.

He was in a bar, watching a vidcast from the Federation Freedom News Network reporting great attrocities which had been committed by the military forces on Zircaster. Argus had felt ill. The Federation Senate was promising immediate investigations, full disclosure and justice. He had been able to obtain a roll of the dead from Zircaster a month ago; every single one of the men from his former command had been on it.

They had all supposedly died in the last big military operation on the planet. Argus knew better. The Federation had used them and then when things seemed to be lost, had gotten rid of them all. Argus didn't know if it had anything to do with his men helping him to escape but one thing he did know, the Federation had to go. That was when he had sought out the rebel alliance.

"Don't you miss being in uniform?" asked Tain.

"Sometimes."

When Argus had quit his commission, he had known that there was no going back. He had also known that Federation would not let him go so easily.

"And now you're working for Olean Rane?" the man asked casually.

"Not exactly," said Argus. He was instantly on the alert, wondering if the other man had an ulterior motive in asking. "Let's not talk politics," he suggested.

"You're right. We're soldiers, even though you pretend not to be anymore; politics is not our concern."

Argus remembered the days when that was true. He really missed those simple days when his only concern was the mission; but unfortunately, he had a conscience.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Avon woke up. Light was streaming into the room and he was lying on his front again; and he was on a bed. Someone was pressing lightly on his upper back. He could feel a hand exploring along his spine.

"Servalan."

"Don't move, Avon."

As the Federation President continued her explorations, Avon shook off the last vestiges of sleep. His body was relaxed and rested. There was still pain emanating from various parts of his body, a natural condition from being a resident of the Special Detention Centre. There was general weakness, which was also normal, but it was as close to well-being as he had felt in a long time.

"Your back is much better," she remarked. "Turn over."

He did as directed.

Servalan contemplated his naked body but did not touch him.

"Are you going to do something? Or haven't you decided how to torture me yet," he asked.

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you."

"That was yesterday."

She chuckled. "I do keep you guessing don't I? Do you plan to get up or are you going to stay in bed the rest of the day?"

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately collapsed on the ground as he felt a sharp stab of pain in his back.

"Ow." He couldn't get up; he felt his back spasm.

"I _was_ going to say take it slowly. Here, lean forward a bit." He had been leaning his back against the bed. Servalan felt along his back.

"Not as bad as yesterday but it still needs a lot of work. Do you think you can get back on the bed?"

"No."

"I'm not about to lift you, so I'm afraid you're going to have to spend the next while lying on the ground again. I want you to put your right arm behind you and fall onto your side. Slowly."

She helped guide him to the ground.

"Don't move. Just relax and let me roll you over." With his right arm behind him, he realized that it made it easier for her to roll him forward. "Ow." It was painful but nothing like the torture he was familiar with.

He heard her walk away and shortly afterwards return. A familiar warm object was placed across his back. She walked away again and then came back and sat down on the bed. He could smell food, she was eating breakfast. Trying to occupy his mind, he concentrated on identifying the food.

"Eggs, ham, coffee, baked product of some kind," he was identifying the food softly to himself.

"Did you say something?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said flatly.

"You never give away information unless it benefits you, do you?"

"Do you?"

"We're very much alike."

"I doubt it."

"You must be hungry."

"Do you plan to feed me?"

"The last time I offered you food, you didn't eat it." Servalan knew that Avon's stomach had not yet recovered from what they had done to him in the isolation cell. In the cell, he had barely been fed; supplement injections had been used to keep him functional. While he worked on the security design, he had only been given supplement drinks in order to acclimatize his stomach to food again.

"As I recall, you drugged the coffee. When I woke up, you had me tortured for two weeks."

"That's only because you made me angry by escaping."

"And what are you angry about now?"

"No anger."

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked. Despite her helpfulness, he never forgot that this was only a charade; one instigated by her.

"You still don't trust me."

"Have you ever given me reason to? In the old days, they used to fatten up animals before killing them."

"That's your paranoia talking, Avon."

"After three years of your hospitality, I have every reason to be paranoid. Isn't that what you told your specialists to do to me?" There was no emotion in his voice, just a cold bitterness.

"Avon," she had come down from the bed and was bending down to touch his shoulder. She could feel the tension from his body caused by his anger. Her touch caused him to stiffen; then she saw his hand tighten into a hard fist. "It hurts again doesn't it?" She slid her hand down to the small of his back and felt the muscles spasm. She kept her hand there as they talked, it helped her gauge his reactions and his stress level.

He didn't answer her.

"Avon, you have every reason to hate me; and I you. We have tried to kill each other too many times for that to change."

"I would have given you a clean death."

"I know, but now you are much more useful to me alive than dead; and unfortunately because of your strength of will, you've forced me to employ measures which would kill most people. For that I am truly sorry. You may not believe it but part of me does regret that all of this has been necessary."

"Is that what you tell yourself when you have me put in the Shredder? Or when you had me put in the isolation cells?"

"I did say that only part of me regrets it; but that regret is genuine, Avon."

"You have a point to make, make it." He did not believe her for a moment, she derived too much pleasure in his pain.

She sighed, "Let us agree to hate each other."

"I don't need one of your agreements for that," he said with cold sarcasm.

"Right now, I only want to help you. Call it regret, call it whatever you like."

"I don't need your help."

_You're going to make this difficult aren't you, Avon? _

"You told me yourself Avon, your mind is unravelling. Even before we captured you, you were already plagued by the nightmares and now you are losing control; even when there are no nightmares."

When he did not answer, the hand against his back pushed down slightly, just enough to cause him discomfort.

"I can make you suffer whenever I want and there's nothing you can do to stop it; but I do not want to do that today, not unless you force me to." She eased up on the pressure. "You will let me help you, Avon. If you don't then I will have you drugged so that you can no longer think except when I want you to think and when you are brought to me. Do you want that?"

She could feel the tension building in his body as she spoke.

"And you think that would be worse than what I have now?"

She put her hands on his shoulders. "I never wanted you this way."

"Really. I would think this is exactly what you wanted."

"Not this."

"Isn't it fun anymore? Or is it only amusing hurting someone who is still fighting you?" he asked bitterly.

"Is that what's happening, Avon? Have you stopped fighting?"

"What's the point?"

"Where is the man who held back the entire Andromedan fleet single-handedly until the Federation fleet arrived? The man who ran rings around the Federation Computer Fraud Division for so many years and who Central Security had to send their best undercover agent after? The man who helped Blake achieve so many successes against the Federation?"

"He's dead."

"That was the man who was useful to me, if you are no longer that man, then I will have you killed."

"Do you think I fear death?"

"No, I think you want it; but I know you will not allow it to happen. You know that the moment you die, our agreements become void and your crew would have to die as well. Would you kill them, Avon?"

"As long as you hold their lives, you think you can make me do anything you want, don't you?"

"Am I wrong? You are too tired to fight, too tired to live, but are you tired enough that you would let them die, knowing that they died because of you?"

She was right, he very much wanted it all to be over, but he could not; he would not be responsible for their deaths but regardless, he did not think he could last much longer.

"How long do you think you can keep killing me?" His voice was subdued.

"If you want them to live, you can never leave me. That means I will keep killing you for as long as you decide."

He fell silent.

"Help me," he asked her. His voice was quiet. He had never asked for help from anyone, he would never accept it from anyone, but he asked it of his enemy.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The third day after he had been captured, Argus was working with several of the soldiers again, this time teaching techniques in facing multiple attackers. He was always aware of everything around him, even those at the periphery of his perceptions. The rebel leader always paid special attention when Tain and the two corporals went to the communications post for their daily report and orders.

He instantly knew something was different today; he could tell from the tension in their bodies and the way Tain was speaking to whoever was on the vidscreen. After the report had been given and orders issued, Tain and the two corporals stood looking at each other for a few moments. Tain shook his head; one of the others must have asked him a question. They began to make their way over to where Argus was training. There was a resoluteness in their stride and an air about them which Argus instantly recognized.

Death was coming.

That part of him which was still very much the soldier, instantly took over.

In a split second, he had assessed his situation. One of his knife opponents' was directly in front of him, trying to get past his guard. One was to his left, one to the right.

The man in front lunged. Obviously he had learned nothing. Argus rotated his body, allowing the man to continue past him and swept the man's leg causing him to fall. Before the man hit the ground, he was already dead by a quick strike to the neck with Argus's blade; Argus had also appropriated his knife. It had been so quick, that no one saw it.

By now Tain and the two corporals were at the edge of the circle of bystanders, their hands already at their holsters. Two knives flew at them with blinding speed, burying themselves into vulnerable throats.

Three dead in the space of a few seconds.

This was why it had been a big mistake not keeping Argus tied to a tree.

By now everyone realized something was wrong. It was not the fact that three men now lay dead. It was the look on Argus's face. It was the calm face of death.

There was a flurry of rushed activity as everyone grabbed for their guns. Argus's remaining knife opponents rushed at him together with their blades; which was very silly of them. They died and Argus now held their blades as well.

Thought became action as Argus gave them all a clinic in positional fighting, which was like a fighter's version of speed chess. Argus was very good at chess.

They all tried to shoot at someone who would not stay still and only ended up killing each other. None of them believed anyone could move so quickly. For most, that was the last thought they had.

He had the fluidity and grace of an acrobat. They could see him move, but it made no difference. They all still ended up dead.

If the old sergeant had not been among the first to die, they may have stood a chance. All they had to do was stay calm and not panic.

They were all very calm now.

**********

Out of habit, Argus picked up a discarded cloth and wiped his blade clean. He stared at it for a few seconds, as if it was an alien object then the knife dropped from fingers which could no longer hold the weapon. He collapsed to his knees, his body bent in anguish; the lifeless bodies of the ten men he had just killed still bleeding around him.

_Am I still nothing but a cold-blooded killer? Even after all this time?_

At that moment, he hated himself more than he ever had before and cursed all the gods who demanded that soldiers kill each other.

**********

Several days later when there was no longer any pain from Avon's back, Servalan finally indulged her desires.

Afterwards as she slept, Avon lay staring at the ceiling. He sighed. She had forgotten to give him the sedatives again and the bio-injector was coded. He sat up slowly, trying not to wake her. As he contemplated the sleeping woman, he was aware of his own hatred and desire for her, and something which he could not quite place, but which made him uneasy. That night at the height of their passion, she had cried out his name. She had never done that before.

He had accepted her help, although the first few days, he had bristled at her attentiveness; which was not that different from her control.

For three days she had been helpful; more than helpful. She was gentle and considerate; which made him want to scream. As long as he cooperated, she was pleasant and had a sly sense of humour. At times the feeling that she was toying with him was very strong. She enjoyed that, keeping him off-balance; she loved the power.

Sometimes, he could almost forget that he was her captive and that she had taken everything away from him.

They interacted and they developed an ease with each other. He rarely experienced this luxury, not since the days with Anna. Even on the _Liberator_ and the _Scorpio_, he had never been at ease. Days on board the ships had been full of tension and danger; and people who used him or needed his abilities.

He knew it was only an illusion, these last few days of peace. He had allowed himself to be fooled, because he needed it. He had always been sure of his own strength of will and superior intelligence, but the last couple of months with his two deadliest foes had shaken his confidence. They had taken everything from him and allowed him to play a game where they set all the rules and controlled all the pieces. They had played him like a puppet, and he had not realized it until the very end.

_You may have won Servalan but leaving me alive is a mistake which I will make you regret. _

For now he would play her game and he would play his part. He had the benefit of time. All human beings are fallible; that was the one constant of the universe. Unlike the mistake he had made before, he would no longer rely on outside forces to rescue him. He would get himself out of this mess and if that meant cooperating with his deadliest enemy, he would.

He got up slowly in order not to disturb her sleep. Pulling on his pants, he crossed over to the bay window; there was a half moon rising in the sky, beyond the barrier of the dome. Faint lights illuminated the extensive Residence gardens.

As he contemplated the view, he was aware that something had changed in the past three days. He had recovered a part of himself. The deadness inside him was receding.

"Do you want to take a walk outside?" At her unexpected voice behind him, Avon turned around.

Servalan had gotten up and was walking towards him, she had pulled on a robe.

Avon looked out the window again. "You like playing games, don't you."

"After three days and you still don't trust me."

"Should I?" he asked cynically.

"No, you shouldn't," she said smiling. This was the Avon she remembered; the hard, sarcastic edge, the cold and calculating mind. He was starting to plan again. She was happy.

The game could continue, but not yet; it could wait until the morning.

"I'm serious, I feel like a stroll around the gardens and you've never seen them."

"You usually keep me busy."

She grinned. "That I do." She put her arms around him and rested her head against his back, she felt him tense and then deliberately relax.

"I'll have to put the chains on you again."

"Of course."

She let go of him and retrieved the manacles from the cabinet where they had lain for three days.

He could hear the clink of the chains as she came up behind him.

"Put your hands behind you," she instructed him.

He hesitated, even at the Centre they had rarely found it necessary to restrain his hands behind him except when he was being tortured. "Even with the agreements and all of your security systems, you still don't trust me not to escape?"

"Should I?" she asked, echoing his earlier response.

He laughed and put his hands behind him as requested.

She snapped the bracelets to his wrists.

He felt a pressure against his neck and before he had time to react, the familiar hiss of an injection. He immediately felt dizzy. "What?" he started to ask then all energy drained out of him, his muscles felt like water. He nearly collapsed from weakness, but she had put her arms around him again to keep him from falling.

"Just relax. You know it's worse if you fight it. Give your body time to adjust," she told him as she held him still.

He rested his forehead against the glass as the dizziness passed; the feeling of weakness remained. He recognized it, it was a stronger variant of the drug they gave him to keep him physically weakened.

"I had to use a much stronger dose," she told him.

"You really don't trust me, do you?"

"I've let you recover too much, in this room it is fine but I can't allow you that outside. It was either that or let the guards work you over."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Though I must admit, having you stronger made a big difference in bed," she teased him. "How do you feel now?"

"You mean apart from wanting to strangle you?"

She smiled. "I'll take that to mean you're feeling better. Here lean against me."

They made their way slowly to the lift. Avon felt like his legs could barely support his weight. By the time they made their way outside, his body had adjusted to the weakness and he could walk unaided albeit slowly.

**********

Out in the gardens, they walked in silence across the grass. The air was clear and filled with the fragrant scent of flowers and plant life. There was a sense of calmness and peace. They were so used to each other by now that they did not feel the need to fill the quiet with dialogue. Avon found that the natural surroundings seemed to revitalize him.

As they continued to walk in companionable silence, he reflected on how odd that was.

"It feels strange," he mused out loud.

"It will pass," she told him. "Your body should adjust to the drug level."

"No. I mean it feels strange being outside, almost unnerving."

He found that his mind was analyzing this peculiar sensation.

"Later, if you continue to behave, I can arrange that you spend some time outside."

He made no comment; he did not appear to be paying attention to her.

"Avon, what are you thinking?"

"The movement of air is very different. There is a different sense of pressure on the body. The perception of space appears to have an effect on the mind."

She smiled, realizing the source of his earlier comment. "Does your mind never stop analyzing?"

They had reached a bench by a lake.

"Let's sit for awhile, you look like you've been running."

Until she had mentioned it, Avon had not realized that he was breathing hard.

They sat down and looked out over the lake together, the moon was shimmering over it's surface.

"I'm returning you to the Detention Centre in the morning," she told him.

"You mean the honeymoon is over?" he asked sarcastically.

She laughed. "Not quite yet." She turned towards him, placed her arms around his and they kissed. "It's unfortunate you're incapacitated by the drugs," she told him as she broke off their embrace before it could progress further.

"Do you normally do this outside in full view of your security cameras?" he asked. He was breathing faster again but this time it was not because of the walk.

"I had them turned off in this section when we came out here."

"Why did you bring me out here?" he asked her.

"Can't you accept that I just wanted some fresh air? And I thought it might help in your recovery."

"You don't have an altruistic bone in your body."

"You're right, we know each other too well."

"Which is why I will never trust you."

"Or I you," she countered. They smiled at each other. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"Do you have a counter-agent to the drug you gave me?"

"I might be able to find one."

They were still smiling. Servalan helped him up and they headed back to the Residence.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

In the morning Avon and Servalan shared a breakfast together before she sent for her personal guards to bring him back to the Detention Centre.

"You were right, the kitchens here are excellent," remarked Avon, putting his fork down. He had been glad that three years of gruel had not dulled his taste buds.

"How could you tell? You barely touched your food. Is that all you're eating?" she asked.

"Being tortured on a full stomach, isn't particularly appealing."

There was no expression on his face but in his eyes was a challenge to deny what was in store for him.

She nodded. "You're not angry?"

"We're enemies, what is there to be angry about?"

"You haven't touched your coffee at all."

"I prefer being conscious when I return."

She smiled. "Would it be better if I did this?" She switched the cup she had been drinking from with his.

He took the switched cup and drank from it.

"It tastes better without the drugs," he remarked dryly.

"You're terrible. It's a good thing you're being returned to the Centre otherwise I might start torturing you myself and I have too many things to do today. You've taken up enough of my time."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"The last three days. I know you only did it because you thought you were going to lose your asset, but you didn't have to do it this way."

At his open honesty, Servalan felt a moment of guilt. If she had been truly kind, she would have killed him; but because of her craving for power, he would never be free again.

**********

Anyone who had happened on the scene in the woods would have thought a battle had taken place; and they would have been right. The bodies of dead soldiers were strewn about, their weapons still lying next to them. They would also have marvelled at the life-like statue someone had left to hold vigil over them; the figure of a man kneeling.

_"Do you think we're just killers?" asked Argus._

_He and Travis were sitting in another civilian bar somewhere; Argus didn't remember where. Travis had just been released from the military hospital after they had fixed the injuries to his left eye and hand; injuries he sustained when he had captured the rebel leader Blake._

_"You always did think too much Argus," said Travis. "Of course we're killers and very good ones; that's what we were trained to be; what we have to be. We protect the peace and security of the Federation."_

_"So we're just instruments of Federation policy?" The tone in Argus's voice indicated that this idea did not make him feel any better._

_"Someone has to do the dirty work. Why all this speculation?"_

_"I've been having dreams. All the people I've killed, I can see their faces, staring at me. They don't do anything, they just stare. Wherever I go they're still there, staring at me."_

_"Don't let them hear you say that or they're going to think you're unreliable and send you to the psychotherapists," Travis warned his friend._

_Argus sighed. "You're right. We're good Federation officers, we're not here to think about why. Politics is not our concern."_

The statue moved.

_Politics is not our concern. _In his mind, the phrase was echoed by another voice, a voice which was now forever stilled.

Argus got up slowly from where he had been kneeling all night. He could barely feel his legs and his knees were complaining bitterly at the movement.

He knew now why his subconscious had been bringing up all of these memories. From the very beginning, something deep inside him had known that this would happen. His conscious mind had not wanted to acknowledge it. He had been foolish enough to allow himself to be distracted from the reality of the situation. Being with these soldiers had evoked a simpler time; a time when he had not recognized the truth.

_A killer and a fool. _

Argus looked around him at the bodies. These were soldiers; they had died in battle. For them it was an honourable death; they would have hated anyone saying otherwise.

He bent down and retrieved the ring from the body of the dead sergeant then he slowly began removing his jacket and shirt. Argus picked up a shovel. He would not leave these men's bodies to the elements and whatever scavengers inevitably preyed on the bodies of the dead.

**********

Avon was suspended from the ceiling by chains attached to his wrists. His feet did not touch the ground and his ankles were attached by chains to rings in the floor to prevent him from moving. Two physical pain specialists were working him over, alternately using hardened gloves and short clubs. The only sound was his own occasional moans from the pain as they took turns hitting him.

He had already been hanging there for almost eight hours; they had brought him here directly after being returned from Residence One. Whatever physical recovery Servalan had allowed him had been completely undone. Of course, those three days in Servalan's bedroom had not been about his physical recovery; and it had definitely not been about his back.

In between beatings, he had been left hanging. He could feel the pain from the torn shoulder muscles and the fractured ribs. His wrists were raw and bleeding.

There had been no questions; the interrogators had not even bothered speaking to him. These were simple beatings designed to incapacitate him. Occasionally they would let him down so that a medtech could check his injuries and heal any serious ones; then he would be injected with various drugs and nutritional supplements and strung back up again.

Compared to the Shredder or what they had done to him in the isolation cells, it was just something to be endured. It was not meant to break him.

The beating stopped; Avon crumpled to the ground as the chain was lowered. A medtech approached and checked him over. After giving him various injections, the medtech nodded to the interrogators, the required damage had been achieved.

One of the interrogators commanded the guards,"He's done, take him back to his cell."

**********

The sun shone off Argus's glistening back as he continued digging. His muscles were lean and rippled as he moved. He was dripping with sweat and his muscles ached from the unaccustomed labour.

_"You can't keep beating yourself up," said Jenna._

_Argus had been on the roof, staring out over the city below. He often came up here to be alone. _

_Sometimes when he was with the undisciplined rebels he could forget his past; but sometimes, he did not want to forget everything. It helped him remember why he was there and what he still owed._

_"What are you talking about?" asked Argus without turning around. Other than Jenna, none of the rebels knew anything about him other than he had been an ex-military commander in Land Command; and she only knew a little more than the others. _

_"You know what I mean."_

_"Don't try to play psychiatrist with me, Jenna. I told you, my life is off-limits."_

_He knew what she was trying to do and he knew he had never told her enough to guess about what haunted him; and he never would._

The hole was now large enough. Argus threw the shovel up over the side and climbed back up. He carefully lowered each body into the grave he had just dug, along with the various weapons and any sign that there had once been a camp here. Picking up the shovel again, he began refilling the hole. The repetitive motion freed his mind to think and remember.

He hadn't thought about the rebels in days but as memories of the past few years came forward, they provoked different feelings in him. He realized that even though they annoyed his military sensibilities at times, he had found a measure of peace with them. Sometimes, he had even stopped hating himself. When he was among them, working towards their common goal, he could forget that part of him which would always remain a killer.

They would never know it but he needed them much more than they needed him.

**********

Several days after Avon was returned to the Detention Centre, Servalan and Sester met in her office at the Presidential Palace.

"What you did worked," said the psychostrategist. He was referring to the three days Servalan and Avon had spent together at Residence One.

"I said you could trust me. What's he doing now?"

"He's back in the lab working on the advanced anti-detector screen."

"Have you readjusted your psych-strategy?"

"After what has been done to him the last three years, it's going to be difficult to do what you ask Servalan."

"I notice you didn't say that it was impossible," said Servalan.

He smiled, "No I didn't say that." She was also getting to know him well; he didn't think he liked that.

"What do you propose?" Servalan asked.

"For now all the current protocols need to be stopped."

"All of them?"

"Yes, for now. They can still be used as punishment when it's required, but you don't need it as a control anymore. The drugs can continue, that will be enough of a check on him."

"And his visits to me?"

"Those are at your discretion Madame President, as always; but the nature of them will change. They will no longer be used as a punishment and it would be good if you stop torturing him, at least for now."

"Do you think he will ever stop fighting us?"

"You mean, will he ever accept his prison? No. You know he will never do that. But as long as he feels we are giving him at least a semblance of a choice, it will be easier for him to live in this prison."

"He is going to become more difficult as he recovers, he's proven that in the past. And if we relax the controls, he will take advantage of it. Will you be ready?"

"Of course, nothing he's done has been outside the frame of my psych-mapping."

"I'm sorry if it hasn't been much of a challenge for you."

"On the contrary Servalan, you have given me one of the greatest challenges I have ever had the privilege to tackle. I have you to thank for that."

"How can it be a challenge if you have everything already mapped out?"

"A psych-mapping is like a chess board, I know all the places he can move and I know all the pieces. On the board lies the game."

"But in chess, your opponent has a chance to win."

"That's where the analogy differs, with Avon's situation, we also make all the rules. The only thing we ever allow him is check, never mate; and when he achieves a check, we take that piece from him. At the moment he does not have many pieces left."

"I still do not see the challenge for you."

"Even within an irregular framework like this, there are still many possibilities, what we psychostrategists call a curve of probabilities. There is a narrow region at the high end of the curve called the improbability zone. It's improbable because it requires uncommon genius, uncommon will or uncommon luck to fall inside the zone. Most people who do achieve it, require a mixture of the three and rarely reach it more than once or twice. Within our scenario, Avon should never have been able to reach that zone at all. With everything we have taken away from him, and the handicaps he's been given, we've done everything to make sure he doesn't, but he has still managed to fall consistently inside that zone."

_You reached that zone yourself when you regained your Presidency, Madame President. _

Sester had great respect for Avon. That Avon was able to fight at all after what they had done to him the past three years was incredible; what he did on Guada Prime in being able to retrieve ORAC and gain a new ship when the odds had been slim to none had been unbelievable; that he had managed to find a way to influence the nightmares, no matter how limited, was quite astonishing and confounded the criminotherapists to no end.

The psychostrategsit was convinced that Avon's efforts to free himself and get around the agreements were not as simple as he had revealed them to be; which was why Sester had been forced to chose the strategy he had adopted in order to defeat Avon. There had been no other way.

Sester found the analyst a fascinating subject and enjoyed seeing what he would manage to do next. The psychostrategist had never before had to take such an active role in order to beat someone in a psych-strategy; but this was Avon.

"Are you sure we will still be able to contain him if we relax the controls?"

"The controls will remain the same, it is the conditions under which they are applied which will change. In the past, we never given him a provision to be able to stop the torture; even when he did what we wanted. It was a very effective way to control him; but giving him that provision now, as a choice, we gain another way to control him. One that is less cruel but just as effective. As long as he cooperates, he can manage the level of pain he experiences. We can never remove it. As you said, if there is a relaxation of the controls, he will take advantage of it. The punishment will still be harsh of he disobeys or defies us but with the new guidelines, he will know that there is now a place for him where he can survive afterwards, as long as he cooperates."

Servalan nodded her understanding.

"Can you spare some time?" Sester asked, "I think we both need to talk to him in order to reassure him and to set up the new guidelines. For this to work, he needs to see that this is in his best interests."

"Very well, I will try to clear some time but it may not be for awhile, my schedule is very full. I had to push back a lot of things in order to work on him."

"In the meantime, I would like begin some of the new guidelines now."

"I leave it to your discretion," Servalan replied. "Now, there is something else I want to discuss. We may need to bring Professor Tarkson back in." Servalan told the psychostrategist her concerns about the damage to Avon's mind.

**********

After Sester left, Servalan sat for a few moments thinking about their converstion before her next meeting.

Those three days of peace and false security she had provided for Avon, had also given her something she had never had before, someone whom she felt at ease with; an equal whose company she missed when he was not there. They were still enemies and could never trust each other, and he would always have to be controlled, but she wanted to see him have some kind of happiness; even in this prison she would never allow him to be free from. She realized that she didn't want him to die anymore, even after his usefulness ended.

_I hope you accept this, Avon. You may not believe me, but I do want you to find some peace._


End file.
